


Dwarven Lullabies

by autisticalistair



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, for obvious reasons, frodo has nightmares and thorin cant sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticalistair/pseuds/autisticalistair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo has a nightmare, and Thorin sings him to sleep with a good old fashioned Khuzdul lullaby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dwarven Lullabies

Frodo is awake and hovering at the door of their bedroom, and Thorin is the only one to notice him. Bilbo sleeps soundly next to him, all but dead to the world. Thorin, though, he still struggles with sleep. Something he has in common with the wee Hobbit.

  
Slowly so as not to scare Frodo away, Thorin sits up and gets out of bed. He presses his finger to his lips and Frodo copies him, the determined look on his face almost funny. He takes Frodo’s hand and leads him back to his own room, both of them silent on the way there. Thorin wonders how he got here, looking after an orphaned child on the other side of the world to where he expected to still be, either alive or dead. Still, it’s a welcome change, and not one he would go back on any time soon.

  
They get to Frodo’s room and Thorin helps him get up onto his bed. He’s about to turn away when he hears Frodo say his name and a small hand tug on his own. He’s kneeling on the bed, big blue eyes wide with… fear?

  
Oh.

  
A nightmare.

  
Thorin smiles, more to himself than Frodo. It’s such a strange thing to smile about, but he is reminded of his nephews when they were Frodo’s age. Fili would pretend that his nightmares didn’t scare him, but Kili would cry until one of his close family came running to sing him to sleep. Usually, it was Thorin. He knows enough Dwarven songs to entertain a tavern for three days straight, but he knows that those won’t do anything for helping Frodo get back to sleep. No, he needs a lullaby.

  
He tries to remember the one he used to sing to Kili as he wraps the boy in his arms and sits down on the edge of the bed. He remembers singing it to Frerin, even, when he was just a baby. He smiles remembering the words, and soon, he starts to sing.

  
Frodo looks up at him with those curious eyes. So big and blue, they hardly seem to belong to a child. Thorin lets the Khuzdul come out for the first time in a while and his voice remembers the tune of the lullaby. It’s slow and solemn, and the words aren’t something you would sing to a Hobbit child, but he has yet to teach his own language to Frodo. It will do for now.

  
It brings back a lot of memories for Thorin as he sings, one hand brushing Frodo’s hair from his face. Frerin as a new born, a mop of golden curls much like Fili’s when he was born. Kili clinging to Thorin in the night when he was scared and his parents were away. Halfway through, Thorin realises it’s the only lullaby he knows. He doesn’t even remember learning it, it’s just always been there. Dwarven love for song truly does surpass memory, he supposes.

  
He starts to sway as Frodo closes his eyes. One thing that Thorin finds curious about him is how little he speaks. He reads a lot, and sits in the garden and helps Bilbo plant flowers and herbs and trim the hedges, though only with Bilbo’s constant supervision. Frodo is a quiet boy, and he probably will always be that way, and in a way, Thorin is grateful for that. He has never been a lucky man, and neither has Bilbo, but he knows they both hope that with a little bit of luck, Frodo will grow up and live a peaceful life. Thorin wants desperately for him to have that, to never have his home wrenched away from him or to endure anything even close to what he or Bilbo has.

  
He is glad that nightmares are only nightmares, and that a simple Dwarven song can chase them away for the rest of the night.

  
Frodo is asleep before he is even finished. When the song ends, Thorin carefully puts him back into bed and pulls the blanket up over him, covering his shoulders. He lingers and something in his chest blooms warm, a burst of affection that he knew was there but never made itself properly known until now. It’s like when he held each of his nephews for the first time in turn. Fili had been sound asleep and not even a dragons’ roar could wake him. Kili had been giggling and trying to grab Thorin’s hair, the new sensation strange and wonderful to him. It is… it is not the same, but it is similar enough.

  
He leans down and presses a kiss to Frodo’s forehead. Frodo doesn’t wake, and Thorin is grateful. He smiles and turns, only to see Bilbo watching them both from the door, the look on his face something Thorin has never seen before.

  
“I woke up and you were gone,” Bilbo said softly. “I heard you singing.” Thorin leaves the room and pulls the door so it is ajar if Frodo needs either of them again tonight.

  
“A Dwarven lullaby. I… I thought it would help,” he says. He can’t meet Bilbo’s eye for some unknown reason. Part of him feels like he is taking away Bilbo’s relationship with his flesh and blood family, but then again, Thorin is new to this entire family thing they have going on here. He still isn’t even used to waking up in the mornings with someone curled up next to him, someone who still, after all of these years together, smiles at him like he’s the sun and the moon. Bilbo has proven Thorin wrong many times before, so he isn’t really surprised.

  
“I think it did,” Bilbo says. He takes Thorin’s hand and brings it to his mouth, dropping a kiss to his knuckles. He does that a lot and Thorin still doesn’t quite know how to react to it. It’s endearing, and wonderful, and it’s terrifying, too, that someone acts out that gesture for him on an almost daily basis. But Bilbo looks at him and smiles again and Thorin forgets to doubt himself.

  
“Come back to bed, Thorin. He’ll be okay,” Bilbo says. He pulls gently on Thorin’s hand and there is little he can do but follow.

  
Thorin is stopped before getting into bed properly by Bilbo walking over when he is sat down. Bilbo takes his face in his hands and brushes his thumbs over his cheeks, eyes never leaving Thorin’s.

  
“I wouldn’t have thought of that,” he whispers. “And I’m really not that much of a singer, either. I’m sure I would have made Frodo’s ears bleed if you hadn’t done the job for me.”

  
“I used to sing to Fili and Kili when they were children,” Thorin explains. Bilbo simply smiles and kisses him. Thorin puts his hands on Bilbo’s back and lets himself remember this. It’s such an oddly peaceful moment for them, everything said in half whispers and their movements careful and gentle. Thorin remembers a time when they fought their enemies side by side, Elven swords in hand and ready to hack through an army of orcs together.

  
There are no orcs here, no dragons or feuds or arrogant elf kings. Just them and Frodo. Bilbo pulls away and buries his face in Thorin’s neck, sighing deeply.

  
“I love you,” he says so quietly Thorin barely hears it. But he hears it, and he smiles.

  
“Amrâlimê,” Thorin says, and it’s enough. He has never been very good at saying it back, but Bilbo knows.

  
_I love you, Thorin thinks. I wouldn’t change any of this. I love you. I love you._

  
They eventually go back to bed, Bilbo curled up like a cat up against Thorin, and if he hums that gentle lullaby while tracing circles against Bilbo’s shoulder, then who can blame him really?

**Author's Note:**

> I... have never written a solo fic before? Anyway enjoy. Find me on Timblr at erebcrs.tumblr.com


End file.
